


Evidence With Medicine

by robertstanion



Series: PEIPHQ Shenanigans [21]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Angst, Hospitals, I love it so much, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mild Fluff, Misleading, Songfic, Tears, The Black And White, Trauma, john mcnamara's scar is my first headcanon relating to peip, mentions of autistic!John McNamara, protective!Xander Lee, recovery fic, scar appreciation, the direct sequel to Sign Of The Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robertstanion/pseuds/robertstanion
Summary: On the 23rd November 2018, John McNamara performed a selfish act to save the president, nearly ending in the death of both him and his husband. One month later, he hasn't really improved. When Cross makes a comeback, and John's left home alone, it's an indefinite recipe for disaster.
Relationships: John McNamara/Xander Lee
Series: PEIPHQ Shenanigans [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764349
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	Evidence With Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> So, I did quite a bit of research on PTSD for this chapter, and of course, I don't have PTSD myself, that's why John didn't get diagnosed. Anyway, shoutout to Remains by Simon Armitage for being the best poem ever while dealing with the topic of PTSD (i hope i bought it justice and im super sorry if i didnt.) The song is also Kill Somebody by YUNGBLUD, and I'm a YUNGBLUD fan, which is different to my standalone songfics such as Anytime You Smile and It Started With A Whisper okay bye  
> -  
> Trigger Warnings:  
> Flashbacks  
> Mentions of PTSD/Possible Diagnosis Of PTSD  
> Depression  
> Medication  
> False Overdose  
> Scars

Xander didn’t leave John’s side while he recovered. His body had responded awfully to The Black and White. Yes, The Black and White could now pick and choose who it wanted to claim, and when John entered the main body, he was seen as a virus. The spores inside of the sea of swirling psychic energy were like the white blood cells, immediately beginning to fight the virus, which was the General’s husband, immediately weakening him. Cross’ claim about John being dead was false, but he may as well be. The man lay in the hospital bed was _not_ his husband, and instead, someone else. Someone damaged, someone who’d gone through something traumatic, and he was now off the field. 

When Xander returned from The Black and White, he immediately lay John on his own examining table. While he’d been asleep that same night, they’d transferred him to the private suite for him so it was comfier. It was essentially a hospital room, but it was on the other side of the precinct, and hardly anybody actually knew about it. They had premium doctors who worked there, and only a handful of agents were allowed to be in there. The same night, Xander had moved some of his lab equipment into the same room so he could continue to work while accompanying John so he didn’t worry. He’d taken the couch and slept on it, waking up in the morning to find John breathing too quickly, his hair wild in his face. The oxygen mask had fallen off and sat on the floor beside John upright as if it had been deliberately placed there. Nobody had been in or out in the night. Xander immediately knew something was wrong. He gently shook John awake, and John’s eyes immediately flew open. He gasped for air and Xander hushed him, running his hand through his tangled hair. “Shhh, I’m right here.” Xander said softly, and John looked at him. 

“It’s you?” He asked weakly, his voice hoarse. “You’re really here?”

“I’m here. You aren’t imagining anything.” He said and dragged the chair back over to beside John’s bed. 

“He told me-“

“Cross is dead, The Black and White rejected you, you’re safe.” Xander said and John bit his lip, nodding. “Here. Let me hook you back up to the oxygen mask. You’re not supposed to be off it yet.” He bent down, lifting up the mask, placing it back on John’s face. 

“Hold me?” John asked, looking up to Xander, his eyes tainted green. Xander looked at him and nodded. 

“You need help sitting back up?”

“Please.” John was now whispering, and Xander knew why. The impact of the realm John had encountered would have tried to defeat him, starting with his respiratory system. His mouth, throat and lungs became affected first, so they had the most damage. Xander slipped his arm underneath John’s back and lifted him up, feeling John tense. He wasn’t in that position for much longer, with Xander sitting behind him. He let go of John and let him curl into him, with the physicist placing his arms back around John, who buried his face in Xander’s chest. 

“I’m glad to have you back.” He whispered, kissing John’s hair. 

“I’m glad you’ve got me.” John whispered, moving his arms out of the thin cover. He didn’t know if John could tell, but his arm was covered in large red scars that hadn’t been there before. 

“John?” He asked, receiving a mere hum in reply. “Your arm…” He watched as John slowly turned his head and looked at his arm. John sighed and pulled his other arm out of the covers. 

“He did say the injuries would appear overnight…” He whispered, brushing his hand over his face, wincing. 

“Where did he get you?” Xander asked, and John fell tense again. 

“Everywhere…he got my arms, my legs…my face…”

“Have you got a scar on your face?”

“I don’t want you to see it.” John moved his thick hair over. “Please don’t look at it. It’ll make me look weak compared to-“

“You’re the strongest member of this agency. Nothing you say or do will change that, and neither will the way you look. Scars make you stronger. It shows you won. It shows you survived.” Xander said and moved him back to his chest, taking John’s hands into his own, running his thumb over his husband’s knuckles, feeling him relax.

“You don’t think I’m weak?”

“I would _never_ think that, John.” Xander insisted, kissing his hair again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Xander.”

“I love you the most.”

“I believe that would be impossible.” John said, taking another breath as he closed his eyes, leaning against Xander’s chest more. 

“It can’t be impossible, not when I’m telling the truth.” Xander smiled and continued to run his thumb over John’s knuckles until he fell silent, assumedly asleep. He sighed softly and moved his hair more in front of his face. “I love you more than anything, I wish you could see that.”

* * *

John McNamara was dismissed from PEIP’s medical centre a month after Black Friday, just in time for Christmas. He’d managed to keep his scar hidden from Xander, but not from himself. They had a new routine now. John may have started to recover physically, but definitely not mentally, meaning the side effects were worse than ever before. Xander didn’t know about that part. Xander wouldn’t know. 

The routine went as such. While John was absent from the precinct, Xander would wake up at 4:30 AM to change and be at PEIP by 5 AM. Somewhere between 10 and 12, John would wake up, read the note Xander left for him before he hauled himself out of bed. He’d take the many different kinds of meds he needed to ensure he continued to heal. Then he’d change out of his clothes, throw them to the floor, and change into a different kind of outfit. Sometimes he had the motivation to brush his hair, but that meant seeing the ugly scar on his face. It was now a deep brown, with some areas beginning to turn pink or fade. It ran from the top of his right eyebrow all the way down to the corner of his lip. The scar also ran _through_ his eye, making a small teal line in the centre of his piercing blue iris. John hated it. Others may see it as a quirk, but to John, it was a reminder he could have died. 

But with Christmas coming up, he had to try to be positive, or at least make an effort. He’d ordered Xander’s presents months ago, and there was a faint rhythm in his body he hadn’t noticed before. He was wearing his hair in a ponytail, but some of his hair covered the right side of his face to hide the scar. He was somehow able to pull of what would be a ridiculous hairstyle, but nobody else needed to see him aside from Xander. He was in the kitchen, about to top up on coffee, when he heard it. 

“ _Weak.”_

John spun around, looking around the room, his eyes wide with stress. They darted from the left to the right of the room repeatedly. He wasn’t alone anymore. He felt the rhythm began to grow stronger and he shrivelled up inside of Xander’s body. When his eyes skimmed over the knives in the open drawer, he heard the voice again. 

_ “Knives create scars.”  _

John flinched then, shutting the drawer forcefully. He didn’t want to be reminded. He felt his face beginning to tingle around his eye, and his breathing sped up ever so slightly. He put the coffee machine on and leaned against the counter. 

_ “Do you feel that, Johnny?” _

John took deep breaths to stabilise himself. It was all in his head. He was safe at home, and he knew Xander would be home in…he checked his watch, which read the time “23:00.” He looked to the clock. 23:00. He looked to the other clock in the living room. 23:00. John gulped down air as he counted to sixty in his head, checking his watch again. 23:00. Another 60 seconds passed, and the watch still read 23:00. Something strange was happening beyond John’s control. Time was frozen, yet he wasn’t. He held the counter with both his hands, pushing against it. He closed his eyes, only to be met with the grinning face of his former mentor, wielding a knife, a bright green glow behind him. He felt what seemed to be a slash and a kick to the stomach , sending him backwards. His face began to burn, and he could feel blood begin to drip down from the open wound on his face. He hesitantly touched the area, not expecting his fingers to come back red. Panicked, he scuttled across the kitchen floor, only stopping when he hit the wall. He shut his eyes again, feeling his head hit the wall, blood dripping down the back of his neck. He grit his teeth and continued to gasp for air. Cross grabbed his head, hitting it against the wall again, leaving John stunned. He walked away, and John curled back up on to the floor, his blood joining that of the victims of The Black and White. He couldn’t seemed to open his eyes, meaning he had to experience the cold blade of the knife being pressed against the fragile skin. He felt the rocking of the cold material and more blood dripping down the front of his neck instead. He cried out, gasping, begging for mercy, but he was met with a cold laugh.

_ “You never were a good mentee.” _

Another kick to the gut and John cried out harder in pain. He clutched his stomach, one hand still applying pressure to the cut on his neck. He wasn’t going to get out of this. The black was consuming him, and his vision was becoming blurred. His hands were stained red, as were his arms as he helplessly rolled around in the old blood on the floor. Another echoed laugh and he was grabbed by the collar. 

_ “But if you join me, if you join Wiggly…”  _

He was thrown against the wall again with such force he shattered. This was how he died, at the hands of his insane mentor. He was met with excruciating pain and the uncontrollable run of his own blood, dripping to feed the eldritch God who his mentor was serving. 

“ _Maybe that could change.”_

He cried out again as the pain became unbearable. He felt so fragile and small in this never ending realm, and he thought he’d gotten out. It had all been an illusion. He couldn’t open his eyes. His vision was blurry and he was dizzy. It would have been three days before Christmas if he was back home, but he was stuck in Hell, unable to escape. He didn’t even say goodbye to Xander for the last time. He choked out another breath as he felt a pair of hands on him. He immediately began to fight them away, thinking they were his mentor, not realising he’d been moved to lean against someone. He continued to fight using the remaining strength he had, gasping for air, becoming physically weaker from the blood loss. He only stopped when he felt a gentle kiss pressed to his neck. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, you’re okay.” Xander said calmly, holding John to his chest, continuing to plant butterfly kisses on his neck. “Match my breathing, you’re having a panic attack.” He took John’s hair out of the ponytail, arranging it to sit firmly on his shoulders, as he ran his hands through it. He held the shaking man gently, allowing himself to feel Xander’s breathing. Xander continued to speak calmly to his husband, keeping his touches light and gentle. “You’re doing so well, you’re doing so well.” He said, continuing to run his hands through John’s hair until he calmed to a reasonable extent. 

“You-you’re here-“ John choked out after a little while, curling up in Xander’s lap. “You saved me again-“  
  
“What do you mean?” Xander asked, looking down to him, and watched as he seized up. “Oh, honey, you don’t need to tell me-“

“Cross had me in The Black and White, and he got me, and I was back there and-“

“Oh, honey, no.” He said, holding John closer. “No sweetheart, you’re on the kitchen floor, I just got in from work. You think you can open your eyes?” He watched as John slowly regained a small amount of confidence, moving his head to turn and to look around the kitchen. 

“I’m home, but-“

“You were always home. I promise. You haven’t been to The Black and White.”

“But he got me! He cut me open, he threw me against the wall he _broke_ me!” John stumbled on his words and Xander shook his head. 

“You’re crying.” He said, wiping another tear away. He watched as John’s hand shot up into eyesight and he scrunched his face up. 

“I thought that he got me, I thought he cut me open again, I thought-“

“I believe you experienced a flashback while I was gone, my love, that triggered a panic attack.” Xander’s voice became quiet and understanding as he explained what John had gone through. John gasped for more air as he continued to calm down, becoming peaceful in his familiar surroundings. 

“What’s the time?” 

“You’re wearing your watch, why don’t you check yourself?”

“It said 23:00 hours-“

“It’s 5:34 in the evening. I came in to start on dinner and found you shaking on the floor…” Xander wouldn’t hide the truth, but he’d drop it as easily as he could. “I ordered takeout and I’ve been by your side for the past twenty minutes.”

“Fuck….Xander, I took my meds! I did! I did!”

Xander cupped John’s cheek and looked at him, brushing his tears away. “Sweetheart, I think the therapist you saw misdiagnosed you. This isn’t _just_ anxiety. I think you may have PTSD.”

“Oh, God…don’t say that, I won’t be allowed back in the force.” He said, more tears pooling up in his eyes. “Xander, I want to go back to work, I don’t want to be weak!”

Xander didn’t know what to say, so he instead hugged John tightly. “We’ll eat in bed, and you should get an early night. You’re still shaking.” 

“I can’t walk-“

“You don’t need to.” Xander stood up, lifting John with him, holding him close. “I’ll be by your side. I’m not moving.”

“If we watch something tonight, can it be something with minimal music…?”

“Did something else happen while I was out?” Xander asked as he carried John up the stairs, him being significantly lighter due to the effects of the other realm. 

“I…I just have a bad feeling…”

“Then we’ll put something different on tonight.” Xander kicked open the bedroom door, walking over to the bed and sitting himself down, John moving out of his arms. 

“I love you, Xander.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

Hours later and John had promised Xander he’d go to sleep, yet every time he closed his eyes, the bared teeth of his mentor were flashed, the knife glowed green and he could hear the giggle of Wiggly in the background. He lay awake, back turned to Xander, as he faced the wall. He was forcing himself to stay awake and he was drained. PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It didn’t settle right with him. He’d always been the strongest member of the force, and suddenly four letters, four words made him the weakest person on Earth. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. So why was he trying?

Xander. Right. Yes. _Xander._ The man who saved his life. His husband. His joy. His pride. His…guardian. 

But Xander was sleeping, and Xander shouldn’t have to deal with John all the time. Xander needed his own freedom, and John was suffocating him. John had to learn to deal with this himself, he couldn’t rely on Xander to save him all the time. So he forced his eyes shut. Again, his attempt to sleep didn’t last long as he saw the same image, his eyes flying open. He was exhausted, and it was 3:36 in the morning. He was giving up. Instead of directing his mind away, he targeted the problem. He began to speak to himself to ensure he could relax. Hopefully it worked. “Today, you made me feel irrelevant.” He whispered, ensuring his words were heard by the universe. “You twisted my intelligence and you made it seem like there was no brain in my head. You ripped me down, tore me to pieces, only for me to get a new diagnosis. And now I’m like a skeleton, I can’t shut my eyes.” He felt like his soul had been thrown carelessly into his own body, he felt misplaced. He didn’t belong with Xander, who was too good for him, too kind, too gentle, he deserved the pain, he deserved the challenges. He was getting thinner, getting worse, immune to any disease. He was constantly nauseous, constantly dizzy, unable to stand most of the time. He had depression and PTSD, on top of his Aspergers which had it’s pros and cons. He’d become immune to extreme pain after being exposed to it for a torrential amount of time meaning his anxiety wasn’t as bad when it came to that side of the force, but it was definitely worse when he was exposed to a different type of injury. 

He needed a cigarette.

He climbed out of bed, taking his pack with him into the bathroom so Xander wouldn’t wake up. He turned on the light and opened the window, sitting on the edge of the bath. He grabbed his lighter and a cigarette, clamping the cigarette between his teeth, watching the flame spark to life. 

_ “I’m so fucking dangerous, don’t you think?” _

John shut his eyes, tightly, lifting his head so he could see the bathroom light through shut eyes. He raised the flame to the drug, dropping the lighter to the floor. He immediately inhaled the smoke and exhaled, which would have relaxed him, if the voice wasn’t there. 

_ “Imagine how disappointed Xander would be in you. You know what you should do?”  _

John bit his lip and put the cigarette between two fingers. Was replying to the voice worth the pain? Was replying to the voice the answer? 

“What?”

_ “You should cover up the evidence with medicine.”  _ John felt something drop into his hand and a rattling nearby. John opened his eyes, looking at several green pills in his hand. _“They’ll fix all your problems. No more PTSD, no more anxieties…no more weights on Xander’s shoulder holding him back-“_

He put two of the pills in his mouth, swallowing them dry. Nothing happened at first, so he finished smoking, dropping the finished butt out the window. Only then, he began to sway. He felt the rhythm in his bones again, but this time, it was accompanied with lyrics. He felt faint, and managed to grip the sink. His breath began to shorten again as the lightbulb shattered, glass sprinkling to the floor like rain. He was plunged into darkness, and when he looked up, he saw the voice of the same crazed mentor grinning back at him, taking a bite of an apple. 

_ “All I wanna do is kill somebody, kill somebody, kill somebody like you.”  _

As John’s eyes rolled back into his head, he heard the faint concerned shout of Xander’s voice, before he _did_ truly become plunged into darkness.

* * *

John woke with a headache, stirring into his pillow. When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurred. 11 AM. Xander should be at work. 2 days before Christmas, 11 AM, the routine was broken. He’d only just became conscious again and he’d been turned like a corkscrew effortlessly. He didn’t bother looking at Xander. He could feel the worry he was projecting. 

“What were you doing at 3 in the fucking morning?”

“I’m sorry…” He said softly. “I…the visions…the flashbacks…”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“ _Tell him.”_

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re gonna get better!” Xander was pleading with him and John’s heart broke. “John, honey, please…”

“You can’t cure PTSD. The only way out of it is-“

“ _Don’t_ you dare talk like that. We’re gonna fight, and if you won’t, then I will.”

“I’m sorry…” John took a breath again. “Xander I’m sorry but the voice-“

_ “Tell him!” _

“What voice?”

“The flashbacks…” he looked up to Xander finally, only to realise his hair wasn’t covering his face. He could see Xander’s face soften, his eyes tracing the deep brown scar that became a mutation. He couldn’t hide anymore. He broke down there and then. Xander moved closer to John, pulling him up into a hug, letting him cry. “Make it stop, make it stop,” he begged, unable to do much else. 

_ “The only way to make it stop is to join us.” _

John sobbed harder and gripped Xander’s shirt. “I can’t-“

“Talk to me. Talk to me, I’m right here, talk to me.” Xander remained soft, combing John’s hair with his fingers. 

_ “Don’t admit anything or I’ll-“ _

“I didn’t wan-na wake you this morning so I-I went for a ci-cigarette in the bathroom a-and the flashback happened and there were _pills_ Xander, they told me to end it all!”

“Cross is dead, I shot Cross, he can’t hurt you.”

“He shattered the lightbulb in the bathroom, he tried to kill me!”

“Shh, shh, it’s not real. I know it seemed real, but it wasn’t. But what is very much real is the lack of sleep you’re getting from this.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“We’re gonna up your therapy.”

“I can’t go through it anymore-“

“With me.” Xander finished. “I’m a therapist, okay? I work as a therapist part time with PEIP under my contract, I have the correct training, I can help you.”

“But I’m a burden! I’m like an unfinished law suit, something so unimportant that can be discarded-“

“Shh….” Xander said, continuing to stroke John’s hair. “You’re not a burden.”

_ “Say it.” _

“But I’m easily discardable…”

“Hey…” Xander’s voice became even softer when he placed a kiss along the centre of the parting on John’s scalp. “Where did that come from?”

“Sorry he’s-he’s putting words in my mouth, I don’t want it to…”

“Who’s the voice?” He tilted his head and John buried further into Xander, tensing again. Xander knew who it was just from those movements. “It’s Cross, isn’t it?” 

John nodded pitifully after a while, not wanting to confess. It would only mean that Xander would continue to worry, therefore defeating John’s strength. “He’s making time act as my currency. He’s making time seem too precious to waste, yet he’s wanting me to throw everything away. I don’t want him to take me, don’t let him take me!”

“I won’t. I’ve got you, and I’ll stay.” He said, close to a whisper. “Cross can’t take you from me. You’re mine, you’re _my_ husband. Okay? It’s Christmas in two days, our first Christmas as a married couple. I’m not letting you go until you want me to.”

“You need to go to work…”

“I booked the next week off. Schaffer’s in charge right now, and she’s _good._ You’re the most important thing for me.”

“But what about the young agents who need their mentor? Did you take them into accountability?”

“Shoot me down, but no I didn’t. It was a spur of the moment decision if I’m being entirely honest, but I wouldn’t regret it. I’ve sent a message to any of the younger agents who have since messaged me, and I’ve directed them to Schaffer.”

John exhaled deeply, still shaking slightly, overwhelmed. “I love you.”

“I love you too, alright? And I won’t stop. You’re my beautiful, amazing, strong husband.” He kissed his forehead. “I’ll practically be glued to your side for a long while, alright? So you can talk to me about anything.”

“Like…right now?”

“Like right now.”

“Because right…right now, I feel like…like an _alien._ My soul doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be in my body. It feels like it should be sitting in a state of perpetual frustration.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Cross keeps shoving me around…he keeps fucking with my head, and he _will_ leave me for dead, if not attempt to, and he’s going to succeed but Xander- please, please don’t let him hurt me, please?” He begged, feeling the familiar burning of embarrassment flush his cheeks, tears continuing to cool the warm areas. 

“I will _not_ let him hurt you. I don’t know if his soul is lay to rest in The Black and White, and I don’t know if that’s why you’re hearing his voice, or maybe it’s just your PTSD. Either way, I won’t know until I can run tests on you when you’re stable enough-“

“Tests?” John whimpered, his eyes shooting up to look into Xander’s, and Xander held him tighter.

“It won’t be anything scary, I assure you. But these tests are brand new, they’re something you’ve never heard before okay? But they are effective and they do give accurate results.”

“They do?”

“Of course, otherwise I wouldn’t continue them.” He kissed the bridge of John’s nose as he shuffled further into Xander’s lap, pulling himself closer. “But do you feel better?”

“Excuse if this sounds like some sort of metaphor but it’s the only way I can think right now…”

“That’s okay, talk like how you need to.” 

“I feel…discarded or discardable, like a note found on the floor that was just abandoned that someone subconsciously pinned to the door like a _WANTED_ poster. But I also feel like the note was crossed out by a careless motherfucker, the same one who dropped me in the first place.”

“And I will do everything in my power to stop you from feeling like that, okay?” He cupped John’s cheek, gazing into his eyes. He noticed the teal straight away, and John seemed to realise that. He tried to pull away, but Xander hugged him again. 

“Don’t mention it-“

“No, no, sweetheart.” He said softly. “I don’t care about your scar. It’s proof you’re stronger than Cross was. Cross went in without a suit and became weak to Wiggly. _You_ went in with a suit, got beaten close-to-death with injuries that should have killed you, became a victim to The Black and White through a virus-like extraction where the realm was actually rejecting you and saw you as an enemy, which you were, _and you’re here!”_

“Yeah, but the side effects-“

“The side effects do hurt, and they are difficult, but you know what? I don’t care. I still have my remarkable, stunning husband in my arms right now with a totally badass scar on his face.” Only then did he watch John’s face crack into a smile.

“It’s horrible.”

“It’ll fade, but it suits you. Especially the teal in your eye.” Xander nudged him gently with his nose and John looked up to him. 

“You made me smile…”

“I always do.”

“But I haven’t smiled since-“

“I know.” Xander said and tucked John’s hair behind his ear. “But you’re John. And I’m Xander. And I swore to try my hardest to make you feel better no matter what during my vows, so why can’t it apply here?”

“It does…”

“Exactly.”

John looked into Xander’s eyes for the truth, and after confirming with himself that Xander would never lie to his face, he kissed him. For the first time since Black Friday, he kissed Xander. His heart still fluttered when he was kissed back, though. When the kiss broke apart, John wiped his tears and looked to Xander. “I’ll try and tell you if I feel a flashback, or if I hear a voice.”

“And trying is the best thing you can do.” He smiled and kissed his forehead again before Xander lay down, John still attached to his chest, and they relaxed under the covers. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered, and it was enough for John to smile, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time since Black Friday, John slept without worry. Hopefully it would be a last, but they’d have to see how time went. 

**Author's Note:**

> ONLY COMMENT IF UR MY MUTUAL THANK U (hope u enjoyed, kudos are appreciated, comments are not and i thank u for reading this)


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